The Observations of Duckling Growth Rates
by Ismira Daugene
Summary: Sherlock and John become parents to an unlikely set of septuplets.
1. Peeps

**Peeps  
>by: Ismira Daugene<strong>

"Quickly, John! The game is on!" Sherlock shouted as he dashed through an alleyway.

"Sherlock!" John shouted back as he tried to keep up. The adrenaline rush during these chases always caught him off guard and helped him to move faster. However he was nothing compared to Sherlock's enthusiasm and long legs.

The consulting detective skidded around a corner and John could hear a crash a moment later. He picked up his pace another notch, not caring if his chest would hurt later. Rounding the corner, he saw that his friend had tackled the culprit and had already cuffed him. John slowed and came to a stop, bending to rest his hands on his knees. "You okay?" he asked.

"Excellent, John! Excellent!" Sherlock had a wide grin on his face.

"Oh come off it, chaps! Give ya half me take if ya let me go!" the handcuffed man tried to plead.

John shook his head. "'Fraid that's not how it works, mate," he said smiling a little. He took out his mobile and upon seeing there was no reception in the alley started walking toward the street. "Be right back. Gonna call Lestrade," he said to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, still beaming brightly. "Best sit down while we wait," he said. "New Scotland Yard won't be here for a bit." Sherlock shoved down on the man's shoulder, pushing him back down to the ground. However a small sound caught his attention. It was high pitched and squeaky and coming from just behind one of the large bins sitting nearby.

Curiously, he stalked over to the bin and crouched down to see underneath. There, in a huddled fluffy mass, were six… no, seven ducklings. They were still quite young since they still had their golden yellow plumage. Cautiously, Sherlock reached out towards them, but the ducklings scattered back. "Shh, shh," he whispered.

Carefully, the ducklings came closer and eventually crowded around his hand, feeding off the warmth. The consulting detective pulled his hand back and the ducklings followed, cheeping and peeping the whole way. Once they were out from under the bin, Sherlock picked one up. It let out a surprised squeak, but nestled into his palms. With a calculating eye, Sherlock examined the bird.

Malnutrition, evident in the way it's bones stuck out from beneath the skin. Cold, going by how they all crowded close to him. Sherlock glanced around, making sure the perpetrator was still where he'd left him before looking back down at the ducklings. Orphaned… Sherlock was sure of it. If these ducklings had had someone to take care of them, they wouldn't be in this state. Their feathers were dirty and unkempt. They were skin and bone and shivering uncontrollably.

In a quick decision, Sherlock began scooping up the ducklings and tucking them in his overly large pockets. They peeped appreciatively at being somewhere warm and settled down inside the warm wool. It was then that John came back, followed by Lestrade and his team. "Right over there," Sherlock pointed over at the man who was leaning back against the building. He was fairly sure the man had a concussion from when he'd been tackled, but he would let Anderson figure that out.

"Come along, John," Sherlock called out as he started to walk away.

"Hang on! I've got a few questions," Lestrade stopped him.

"And I've got several frozen digits that need attention," he replied pushing past the yarder.

Lestrade sighed and mumbled something to John that Sherlock didn't quite catch. A moment later, John was trotting to catch up to him and walking by his side. They weren't far from Baker Street so Sherlock decided to walk home. "Lestrade's not happy with you, you know," the former army doctor said casually.

"Indeed. When is he ever?"

"When you catch the criminals for him," John smirked.

Sherlock smirked as well.

"He asked me to bring you down to the station tomorrow. Said something about raiding the flat if you didn't come." The shorter man didn't sound perturbed by the threat and Sherlock smiled at his flatmate's demeanor.

He let out an exasperated sigh though to keep with tradition and nodded. "We'll stop by for a bit. Ten minutes is all I can spare though. Important experiments at home."

John cast him a sideways glance and nodded.

They arrived back at Baker Street shortly and made their way up to 221b. It was then that the peeping started up again. "What is that?" John asked looking over at his flatmate. Sherlock didn't answer, but reached in his pocket to pull out one of the ducklings. "Sherlock! What are you… NO! You will not be dissecting ducklings in this flat!"

Sherlock frowned and looked up to see John starting towards him. "Don't be ridiculous, John! They were orphaned and I have some tests I'd like to run regarding bonding and growth rates."

John halted. "They?"

At this, Sherlock knelt to the ground and began pulling the other small creatures from his pockets. Once all seven were on the ground, he looked back up to see a baffled John. "Where did you even get them?" he asked.

"Hiding under one of the bins in the alley," Sherlock replied.

John cautiously came closer. "Yes well they look like they're in bad shape."

"Bit of a bath and some milk and they'll be fine," Sherlock replied scooping up the ducklings and making his way to the bathroom.

John followed, amazed by his flatmate's behavior. Sherlock set the ducklings down in the bathtub, plugged up the drain, and turned the water on a luke warm trickle. The bottom of the tub filled slowly until there were a few inches and Sherlock turned it off. He rolled up his sleeves and methodically began inspecting each duckling and cleaning it carefully before setting it down again. John watched, fascinated, but didn't interrupt. Instead, after a while, he moved into the kitchen and started making some tea.

Sherlock didn't give any comment about his flatmate following him and watching from the door. He simply did what needed to be done. The ducklings peeped and chirped happily in the water as they splashed and swam around. They're dirty yellow plumage soon gave way to a brighter yellow and clean feathers.

Once Sherlock was finished, he took the ducklings out of the tub and drained the water. The small creatures shook off the excess water onto the towel on the floor and peeped and squeaked as they crowded back around Sherlock. Surprised, Sherlock tried to move away, but the ducklings only followed, peeping the entire time. It appeared that the ducklings had bonded with him to replace their mother. Sherlock frowned as he thought of the ribbing he would get from John. He sighed, there was no use for it. He couldn't very well throw the ducklings back out on the street.

The consulting detective rose from his crouched position and with a resigned sigh made his way into the kitchen. All seven ducklings followed, peeping as they hurried along in a line behind him. John turned from fixing the tea. Two mugs were in his hands and Sherlock could tell they almost dropped when he caught sight of the ducklings trailing behind him. "Not one word, John," he said slipping his mobile out of his pocket to text Lestrade.

John merely smiled and offered one of the mugs. "Tea?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Just a short fic based on a tumblr post. Link here: shockingblankets dot tumblr dot com/post/73354945190/villain-in-training-domesticvulcan-what-if


	2. Sherlock does NOT have a soft side!

**Peeps  
>by: Ismira Daugene<strong>

**Part II: Sherlock Holmes does NOT have a soft side.**

It was well into the evening two days after Sherlock had picked up the ducklings when Lestrade dropped by. Sherlock was resting on the sofa, in his 'thinking' position, with all seven ducklings cuddled up in a pile on his stomach. John sat across from him in his usual chair typing away at his blog and looking up every now and then to smile at the sleeping ducklings. The small fuzzy animals had taken to their surrogate parents quiet well, and their surrogate parents were soon wrapped around their fingers… well, that is if they would've had fingers. This was evident in the soft wood shaving bedding and heat lamp that sat next to the sofa as well as the top of the line feed sitting under the kitchen sink at the moment.

Everything was calm, and quiet. The only sound came from John's computer. He'd set it to play a classical piano piece by Schubert. However that was disturbed when they heard the door downstairs slam and rough stomping feet coming up the stairs. The ducklings, startled by the noise, peeped and cheeped in fright. Sherlock sat up and shushed them as he cuddled them on his legs. "When I ask you to come down to the yard to give a statement, I expect you to be there within twelve hours! Not for me to come chasing you down two days later!" Lestrade growled loudly as he came into view.

He stopped short though when he spotted the tiny ducklings and his face contorted from anger to confusion. "What the bloody hell?"

"Not in front of the children, Lestrade," John joked, smiling.

"You're letting him experiment with live animals now?"

John frowned at this. "First off, _I _have little say in what Sherlock does. Second, of course not! We do draw the line somewhere."

"Well then why do you have seven ducklings in your flat?"

At this, John looked over at Sherlock. "You know, I'm honestly not sure. Why _did_ you bring the ducklings home, Sherlock?"

Sherlock scowled at the two questioning him before turning his attention back to the ducklings. The fuzzy creatures had settled and were now sliding down Sherlock's legs to go warm up under the heat lamp. "They were orphaned and it presented the perfect opportunity to observe ducklings as they grow," he said clinically looking up at Lestrade.

John grinned, but didn't say anything. Lestrade on the other hand had no compulsion to keep quiet. "Yeah, right. Sherlock Holmes has a soft side… never thought I'd see the day!" he chuckled.

Sherlock scowled and rose so that he was once again taller than Lestrade. "I do not. I am a high functioning sociopath. I do not have a soft side. John, get rid of him." He marched into the kitchen and began rummaging around under the sink with the ducklings' food bowl.

Lestrade turned in time to see John set his laptop aside and rise to his feet. "Did you need some questions answered about the case?"

The silver haired detective shook his head. "No, everything is done and sorted. I just wanted to yell at Sherlock, and you for that matter, about giving statements in a timely manner." John smirked, but didn't reply. Lestrade let out a sigh as he crossed his arms and watched the ducklings all peep and chirp up a storm as they ran over to Sherlock who was pouring food into their bowl. Some of them tripped on the way, but they quickly hopped back up and followed their siblings. "Any idea how long he plans on keeping them? I don't imagine Mrs. Hudson is too thrilled."

John frowned. "To be honest, she doesn't know yet. Hasn't been up to see us in a couple of days."

"She okay?"

"Oh yeah," John nodded. "Been spending a lot of time down in Speedy's with Mr. Chatterjee."

"Ah," Lestrade nodded. "Good for her." He smiled and moved toward the door. "Take care, John, and make sure he doesn't get in too much trouble!"

John shook his head slowly. "Unlikely, but I'll see what I can do."

Lestrade smiled and left, leaving John to watch as Sherlock sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor watching the ducklings splash and play in their water dish.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, I know this story is marked as finished, but I'm continuing it. I hope to add at least one more installment (with Mycroft!) to the series. We'll see what happens then. I might have more ideas for this! Who knows! But I'm going to keep it as being complete.


	3. Missing

**Chapter 3: Missing**

"John! John wake up!" Sherlock pushed at John's shoulder, shaking him harder.

"Mmm… wha? Wha' is it, Sherlock?" the former army doctor mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"The ducklings. One of them is missing."

John's eyes finally opened and he could see the genuine concern and fear on his flatmate's face. "Okay, okay," he grumbled as he sat up, yawning. "Tell me what happened."

Sherlock stepped back from the bed as John swung his legs off to rest on the floor. "I had put them all to bed and was doing some research online. I checked on them a couple of times through the night and they were all sleeping soundly. However just now when I went to look, they were awake and Newton was missing!"

"Newton?" John's brow furrowed as he grabbed for his robe and shrugged it on. Sherlock seemed to blush, but refused to answer. John thought for a moment as he pulled on a pair of slippers before his eyes widened in recognition of the name. "Sherlock, did you name our ducklings after scientists?"

"It seemed logical to differentiate them. Naming them after scientists seemed more interesting than simply calling them Duckling 1, 2, 3… etcetera."

John smirked. "What are the others' names?"

By this time they were headed down the stairs and Sherlock led him over to the small enclosure where the ducklings were awake and peeping. He pointed at each of the remaining six ducklings with confidence, naming them: "Bohr, Curie, Mendel, Bunsen, Tesla, and Edison." In a lower voice he pointed at Tesla and Edison, "They don't like each other very much."

"I can tell," John murmured as he watched the two ducklings in question squabble. "Okay, so where could Newton have gone?" John looked around the messy living room.

"I've already checked the obvious, John," Sherlock rolled his eyes as his flatmate bent to check under the sofa. "I'm afraid we're going to have to clean the flat."

"Oh yes and what a devastating idea that is," John grumbled as he started to pick up the various scattered newspapers nearby.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment as he made sure the remaining six ducklings could not escape their little enclosure before moving to help John in cleaning up the flat.

Approximately two hours later, the two men had picked up the living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and even ventured upstairs even though the duckling couldn't make it up the stairs "Well were is the little devil?" John muttered as he trudged down the stairs again. The ducklings in the enclosure peeped at the sight of their surrogate parents and Sherlock moved around his flatmate to reach inside and gently pet the ducklings, reassuring them. "You'd think we'd have heard him by now," John mentioned looking around the kitchen as he rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand propped on his hip.

At that moment, Sherlock's head popped up and he looked back at the former army doctor. "Brilliant, John," he murmured.

"What?" John's brow furrowed in confusion. The brunette detective rushed around him and towards the landing. "What did I say?" John called out, louder. Sherlock nearly ran down the stairs while John followed to the top step just outside their door. "Sherlock?"

"Think about it, John! We can't hear him in the flat so he must be outside of it!" Sherlock shouted back up the stairs before hurrying to the door of 221A. "Mrs. Hudson?" he called out as he knocked on the door.

Eyes widening in understanding, John hurried down the stairs to join Sherlock just as Mrs. Hudson was opening her door. "Oh, boys! You'll never believe what I found wandering the hallway when I came out to get the mail!"

John grinned as Sherlock led the way into Mrs. Hudson's flat. "He's in the kitchen splashing around in the sink," she cooed as she gestured to the silver metal sink.

Both men walked over to see Newton happily splashing in the water, diving beneath the surface only to come back up a few inches away. Sherlock watched with a small smile on his face. "Well at least he's okay," John remarked sidling up beside his flatmate.

"He's just a little darling, but where did he come from?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

John turned to face her with a somewhat guilty expression on his face. "Well…" he paused before going into the story of how they'd acquired not only Newton, but his six brothers and sisters.

When he was finished, their landlady was giving them a look that flickered between amazement and what John thought might be worry for the state of 221B. "And just how long will they be staying?"

"I plan to reintroduce them to London in Reagent's Park before summer's end," Sherlock spoke up as he turned to face them.

John looked over at his flatmate curiously. "That's two months away."

"You'll be picking up after them then?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "I'm not your housekeeper after all." She leaned around Sherlock to peek at the peeping duckling again.

"Of course," Sherlock grumbled as he scooped up the small duckling out of the water despite the protestations of the young bird. "Come along, John." He walked towards the door, not looking back to see if John was following.

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson. I'll make sure they're out before September," John gave their landlady a smile and a nod before following his flatmate back up the stairs to 221B. He arrived to find Sherlock drying Newton off with a hand towel. "So… two months with ducklings?" he commented, crossing his arms as he came up behind the brunette.

"It shouldn't be too difficult. If we release them back into the wild before they develop their own oil glands, they'll die. And I doubt your morals would allow that."

"Mhmm," John murmured with a smile as he moved into the kitchen to start the kettle for tea.

**oOoOoOo**

Author's Note: So I know I said this one was going to be Mycroft finding out about the ducklings, but I lied... hope you like it anyway! Also just a reminder that this story was based on a tumblr post by shockingblankets.

AND! The lovely drunkenstrawberries on tumblr made fanart for this! Check it out on the archive of our own version of this story (link found on my profile)!


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